


The Cave

by elospock



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 03:17:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2176044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elospock/pseuds/elospock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most probably a slow K/S, post-STID. After Khan was defeated, the Enterprise was given a five-year mission to explore the uncharted and the unknown. However, things seem to be quite rocky between Captain James T. Kirk and his First Officer Spock. And they don't seem to get any better as Kirk's past resurfaces in disquieting circumstances...</p>
<p>The rating might have to be changed to rape/non-con and graphic depiction of violence, though it doesn't concern the first chapters. It might eventually get pretty intense, though that part of the story is not written yet. Not for the fainthearted (though I don't know, it might not be that extreme... better be safe than sorry, in any case! And I don't want to mislead anybody either!)</p>
<p>LLAP!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue.

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story a couple months ago, but decided to rework it and publish it here as well, as it is all about Kirk and Spock. Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> This is more or less based on the song "The Cave", by Mumford and Sons, though I would not say it's a song fic. It's more liberally inspired from the song than just about the song.
> 
> Oh, and by the way.
> 
> I do not own Star Trek. Unfortunately, a wonderful man named Gene Roddenberry invented it before me. And many great people have shaped its universe. I'm just doing it for fun and the sheer enjoyment of seeing two of my favourite characters lose themselves with each other in a Universe that is very dear to me.

**_*_ **

**THE CAVE. Prologue**

_USS Enterprise. Stardate 2261.1._

The Enterprise was dead silent. The occasional sparkle of some circuits suddenly coming to life seemed to be the only sound disturbing the stillness of the air. The low and steady hum of the ship's engines had long since stopped. The warp core had been irreversibly damaged, and the life-support systems had collapsed almost everywhere, leaving the ship in a state of extreme degradation. Only the emergency lights were on, casting a dim and gloomy glow over the tangled mess of blood, wires, and metal.

The stillness was oppressing. Only two shadows moving rapidly along the decks were disrupting the deafening silence of the once luminous starship.

"Captain, I must protest, you cannot simply –"

"Mr. Spock, we already had this discussion. It's my duty. You know I  _have_  to."

Captain James T. Kirk was running along the now empty corridors of his beloved Enterprise. Spock was following his closely.

"Captain –"

" _Commander_ , don't debate my orders. I must GO."

"Captain, if you had listened to my –"

Jim stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at his First Officer, panting.

"Listened to what, Spock? Your very reassuring statistics and all the possible ways this whole mission could just explode in our faces? Listen to how  _I_  of all people could fuck it up more than it already is? How  _I_  – and only I – was the one who fucked it up big time in the first place?"

Spock didn't answer, his eyes fixed on Jim.

"You might be right, I might be the one to blame. But… What is done is done, Spock. In any case, I have no choice. It  _is_  my duty. We are running out of time, here. Let me handle this."

He turned to resume his motion, but Spock quickly grabbed him by the arm to prevent it.

"Captain, please, let  _me_  do it instead."

Jim looked intensely at Spock.

"No, Spock, Never."

"Captain, you know that, as First Officer, I am –"

" _NO. FUCKING. WAY._ There is NO WAY you'll convince me you are less valuable, that you can do this better than me. That this whole shit is only  _fucking_  logical. For  _fuck's_  sake, Spock, I won't let you sacrifice your life because of  _me_."

Jim started running again, as though the whole power of hell was about to unleash anytime behind him – which was the case.

"Captain, according to Starfleet regulations, you are perfectly aware that I am  _indeed_  more expandable than you are – _you very well know it_."

"Spock. Don't  _Starfleet_  me. FUCK Starfleet, Spock. All I need to know it's that it's my fucking Starfleet  _duty_. And that's it. I won't let you die for this mission in my stead. Now, Spock, go to the transporter room and  _fucking_   _beam down_  wherever you can with Bones and Scotty before it's too late."

They had finally arrived on the bridge. Somehow, the chaos here was even more heart wrenching. The different consoles had been almost completely destroyed and dismantled during the attack, burying half of the on duty crew under it. The scene seemed to be painfully petrified, as though artificially enhanced to look even more real.

"Captain, I  _will not_  let you die either."

Jim stopped abruptly.

"Why," he asked, without turning.

Spock was taken aback. He was prepared to debate any argument, any question the Captain would have asked, but this one – he couldn't. He looked at Jim, bewildered.

"Captain…"

"Why, Spock?  _Why won't you let me die_? Just say it."

Jim turned around and stepped closer to the Vulcan. The captain's stare was hard and determined. Unable to keep eye contact, Spock dropped his head.

"I…", started Spock.

"You think you would do me a favor, by taking my place? That I cherish this life so much that the very idea of dying  _frightens_  me? Or maybe it's because it would look bad on your bloody fucking perfect  _résumé_ , is that it? It would damage your precious Vulcan reputation? To let your Captain die alone on his ship as is his duty? You would take it as a personal failure, wouldn't you? A fucking  _emotional_  failure. You would die rather than admit to emotions, wouldn't you?"

Spock suddenly looked up at Jim, profoundly hurt. He started answering but was stopped short by the intense emotional turmoil that was filling Jim's eyes. A turmoil that was dangerously close of overwhelming Spock as well.

"Well, guess what, I'll go down with the Enterprise  _if_   _I fucking have to_. And there's nothing –  _nothing_  – you, you of all people to be here at  _this_  moment, there is not a single thing you can do to prevent it. I won't let you stand between her and me."

Jim came even closer.

"But you still haven't answered. So why are you trying to protect poor James Kirk? Finally, I get to act properly, as my glorious father did. You should be pleased that I finally do what's  _right_. Finally, I get to be in a no-win scenario and understand – I of all people – what dying on duty is. Aren't you  _happy_  now?"

Jim inhaled sharply and turned to face the destroyed bridge. Slowly, he looked around, taking in every detail of the destruction, as though encrypting it in his soul. His stare stopped back on Spock, hard and unforgiving, but also painfully desperate.

"So why do you offer to give your life for the ship, for the crew? I know it cannot be because of me. For Christ's sake, you made it very clear that you don't like me. So spill it out."

Spock raised a surprised eyebrow.

"That is inaccurate, Captain. I do not in fact 'don't like you', as you put it," said Spock before he could stop himself.

Jim narrowed his eyes, his glare somewhat faltering a little.

"You also have the erroneous presumption that I believe in no-win scenarios, which in fact I do not," continued Spock before Jim could answer.

Jim's jaw dropped significantly, as he looked at the undecipherable expression of his First Officer.

"Spock, what  _the hell_  are you trying to –"

"Jim."

Jim stared back at Spock, stunned by the softness the Commander had just used to say his name.

Then, Spock walked up to Jim until they were just inches away from each other, and put a hand on his arm.

"Jim. You might not always have been my friend – but you have to know that I always shall be yours."

Gently, he put his other hand on the Captain's shoulder.

"Jim, I do in fact like you. I would never have remained on the Enterprise for so long if I hadn't."

Unable to speak, Jim lowered his eyes. Slowly, he put his hands on Spock's.

"As for no-win scenarios, I think it is still possible for us to save what remains of the ship. Jim, I do not have any other hidden agenda right now. If I am still here, it is because I could not bear to let you walk away to die with the Enterprise."

Jim exhaled sharply, as though he had been holding his breath for a few minutes.

"Jim, I cannot watch you die, as I did with my mother. And I  _will_  not. You can charge me with insubordination, if you want, even with mutiny – that is if we  _survive_  this. Thus, I will  _not_  oblige, and leave the ship. I will remain on the bridge, Captain. At your side, as I always have been, as I always will be. And I will remain here, even if you stay, even if you go. And we will get the Enterprise out of this. Together.

"Jim. Let me help."

Jim was crying now. Spock didn't think he had ever seen him cry. Slowly, he looked up to meet Spock's dark brown eyes.

"Spock… I'm scared. I am so scared."

Spock tightened his grip on Jim's arm and shoulder. They looked at each other, as they never had before. Everything was there: their raw, complex, overflowing emotions, conflicts – and desires. And somehow, Jim saw himself in Spock's deep stare, just as Spock saw himself in Jim's. Both their resolution in the prospect of certain death seemed to harden, pulling its strength from each other. With a nod, Jim motioned Spock to the helm, still miraculously in semi-working order.

"Let's get the hell out of here."


	2. Empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :) Thank you for your lovely feedback!

**Chapter 1. Empty**

* * *

" _It's empty in the valley of your heart."_

_Mumford and sons_

* * *

  _USS Enterprise. Stardate 2260.7. Five months ago.*[See note at the end of Chapter.]_

 Jim abruptly woke up, shuddering and covered in sweat. The vivid images of his nightmare were still lingering in his mind, and it took him a few moments to realize that it was just a dream. Slowly, he became aware of the familiar surroundings of his quarters, dimly lit by his computer screen. He looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Apparently, it was 0503, and his shift was only starting at 0800. He fell back on his bed, feeling still shaky.

For the past few months, his nightmares had gotten worse and worse. After being miraculously brought back to life by McCoy, he had been hospitalized for a few weeks, before they had officially cleared him for duty. Shortly after the Remembrance Ceremony, where he was awarded different high distinctions along with his crew, Admiral Barnett had personally come to see him in his Academy quarters. It had been now almost a month since that night. He remembered the episode quite vividly.

* * *

  _Starfleet Academy. Stardate 2260.6. Six months ago._

 

There was a brief and formal knock at the door. Frowning, Jim swiftly put a black regulation shirt and tossed away the towel he was using to dry his hair. _Who the hell can that be_ , he asked himself. _Maybe Spock? Or Bones?_

He looked at the clock. It was 1733. But as he was supposed to meet Bones for diner at 1830 and Spock for chess at 2100, he doubted it would be either of them.

Puzzled, Jim opened the door.

"Captain Kirk," Admiral Barnett said with a little smile.

"Admiral Barnett, sir," he acknowledged, too astonished to say anything else.

The admiral dismissed the title with a wave of the hand.

"Please, Kirk, call me Richard, I'm off duty."

"Of course, uh… Richard."

There was an awkward pause.

"So, Captain, should I come in?" asked the admiral after a few seconds, with a little smile.

"Of course, of course, damn, I'm sorry, uh, Richard. But please, uh, just call me Jim," he replied, hastily moving aside to let his guest in.

The admiral nodded in agreement as he entered the quarters. They were surprisingly quite neatly organized. Jim looked around to make sure there was nothing embarrassing laying around, but then, it's not as though he had had a lot of time to actually _do_ anything embarrassing. He scratched the back of his head, uncomfortable, wondering if the whole situation could become even _more_ awkward.

"Uh, do you want something to drink, Richard?"

"I'll have a scotch, please, Jim."

Then, motioning the admiral to the lounge area of his quarters, Jim went to the bar to retrieve two glasses and a bottle of very old looking scotch.

Grabbing the highball glass Jim had prepared for him, the admiral took a sip and glanced at Jim with pleasure and approbation.

"That's some good stuff you have here, Jim. Wouldn't that be some very old Talisker?"

"Yeah, precisely. A fifty something year-old bottle Scotty gave me shortly after the _Narada_ events. It's quite something," replied Jim, with a little smile at the thought of his Chief Engineer. "It's a shame I don't get to drink it more often."

Jim sat on the arm of the couch, waiting. Richard slowly paced around the room, looking at the different artworks hanging on the wall.

"You seem to be very fond of 20th century painting. This is, indeed, quite a collection you have here."

Jim stood up and went to stand beside the admiral in front of the Kandinsky he was currently admiring.

"Yeah, I always had a thing for "modernity" as it was beginning to be defined in the 20th century. There is something quite endearing in the search of these artists, and we cannot find anything of the sort, really, after the 1990s. Postmodernity brought a whole lot of nice experiments in the 1970s and 1980s, but then, it erred in many ways. And since then, art has taken just a weird turn. Nowadays, the mainstream artists all over the galaxy are trying to reconstruct the definition of art through what it's not by, paradoxically, making artworks out of… what was just _never_ considered art. It's not the artwork in itself, and not even the process or the background story anymore that makes the art. It's not even art for the sake of art. And it's a whole lot of bullshit, if you want my opinion. They are trying so hard to renew art that it becomes completely meaningless, and mainstream, and uninteresting. There are very few contemporary artists that I truly appreciate as such, now. I prefer the old ones."

Barnett was now watching Jim with genuine surprise and admiration.

"I didn't know you were that versed in Art History. It's quite impressive, actually."

Jim felt his face becoming red, and he shyly looked down, visibly embarrassed.

"Oh, you know, I'm not an expert or anything, but when you grow up in Iowa, there's not much to do, really. So I had a lot of time to read. And somehow, I always retained a fascination towards art. I would have become a teacher or something of the sort, if I… well, if things had happened differently at some point in my life. I was, uh… forced to choose another path."

Then, growing even redder, Jim simply turned and went back towards the couch he had been sitting on. The admiral was very astonished to see the captain act in such a fashion, for he was notoriously renowned to be a cocky and self-assured guy. He certainly didn't expect to find in Jim the shy and self-conscious man that could talk about Art History as passionately as of battle maneuvers and command techniques. Well, well, that surely _was_ quite interesting.

The admiral walked around the room for a few minutes more before stopping in front of the large bay window overlooking San Francisco. You could see the still bleeding scars of the recent events only too well in the wounded city. Almost half the boroughs had been at least partially destroyed by Khan's ship, and even though the reconstruction was going quite well, there was still much, so much work to do. It would take months – _years_ – until the City by the Bay would be completely healed – if ever. It was a rather disquieting sight.

The admiral sighed and turned to face Jim.

"It's so easy to forget that barely a year ago, you were still a cadet. By Starfleet, you're not even _thirty_. And yet you've been in more terrible missions and awful battles than many, many commodores and admirals."

Jim gave a cold and bitter smile.

"Believe me, Richard, for me, it's not that easy to forget."

"Of course, son. I imagine."

They were silent for a moment. Jim was looking at the admiral, who seemed deeply lost in thoughts. He apprehended what was coming, for he was now sure where this was going.

"You know, I served with your father, Jim," said Barnett, with a fond smile. "He was a great man. Such a shame you never got to know him."

"Yeah… It sucks," replied Jim, a bit harsher than he intended.

Admiral Barnett snapped out of his reverie and looked pensively at the young man.

"I know how you feel, Jim. Always compared to this father you never knew, his shadow always hanging on top of your head, like this Damocles sword. And then, there are all these people saying how much you look like him, how much you should be more like him, how much he would have loved you. And it must be frustrating to hear people always referring, always comparing both of you, as though implying that it is somehow your duty to eventually replace him, to be as good and heroic as he was. How awful it must have been to grow up with all that weight, all these expectations on your shoulders! George Kirk left big shoes indeed to fill up. But you know, Jim, you are not like him. Not at all."

Surprised, Jim stared at the admiral.

"Do not mistake me, Jim. You are a great man too. Oh, yes, you are," he fiercely stated when he noticed the amused disbelief growing on Jim's features. "Your father would have been proud, that's for sure. I knew him. He would have. For God's sake, you've even managed to surpass him. You _are_ indeed one of the most distinguished graduates Starfleet ever had. And that's not a futile thing to say, you know. Your father was very talented, but he didn't have half your talent and nerve. You have extremely different styles of command."

Jim was now looking at him as though he was seeing the admiral for the first time. He didn't quite know how to react to so much praise from such a high-ranked officer.

"Uh, well, thank you, sir," he slowly answered. "But all this praise… this _talent_ everyone talks about… I mean, I couldn't have done _nearly_ half of it without my crew. And especially without Spock."

The Admiral smiled a little at the mention of the First Officer's name.

"Yes… You two are quite the pair," he replied, with a knowing smile.

There was something strange in that smile. By Starfleet, was it _that_ surprising that he, James Tiberius Kirk, the reformed bum, would become quite close friend to the cold and logical Vulcan? _Yeah, ok, I guess it is, when you look at it this way_ , he admitted, with a sly grin.

The sun was now slowly setting over the city, overflowing it with deep orange and purple light. The silence lingered for a few moments between the two men, who were contemplating the view, deeply absorbed by it.

"Jim, I know you've only been back on duty for a few days, but I'm afraid they're giving you another assignment," sighed Richard.

Jim nodded, unsurprised. He was expecting something of the sort.

"I'm ready, sir."

Admiral Barnett turned to Jim, and looked him in the eyes. Jim felt extremely uneasy under the intense acuteness of that look, yet he held it until the admiral addressed him again.

"Jim. I don't know if you understand yet. They're sending you to investigate on… Tarsus IV."

Jim flinched perceptibly and stood up.

"What?"

"You've heard it right, Jim."

Jim took a step forward in the direction of the admiral, but held back, his mind overflowing with memories and strong emotions.

"I thought…" he croaked, the voice unexpectedly hoarse. He cleared his throat, angry with himself for showing such weakness. "I thought the colony had been, uh, dismantled for good like ten years ago."

But Barnett was shaking his head. He suddenly looked far older than he was. He exhaled and reluctantly resumed his explanation.

"It was never _dismantled_. I don't think you ever grasped what Tarsus IV's purpose really was. But again, you were just a kid. It always was… _more_ than just a simple colony."

Jim remained silent, his anger boiling in his veins. He violently put his glass on the table, unable to repress the emotional chaos that was threatening to overwhelm him.

"Can I ask why the hell you are sending _me_ there, sir?" he groaned through gritted teeth. "You seem to know quite well of my… troubled past on Tarsus IV, Admiral. Your presence here proves it. I thought only Chris… I thought only the late Admiral Pike knew."

Admiral Barnett looked at Jim, his gaze now grave and severe.

"Jim, do you really think Christopher would keep such critical information for himself? It was his duty as a Captain to report it, but also as a friend. He deeply cared for you. He only added Tarsus IV to your record with reluctance, but there was no way he could have gotten away with it had he 'forgotten' to report the information. You are a Starfleet Captain too. You know how it works. The Admiralty has to know where its officers come from, even the best. And what happened on Tarsus IV… well, let's just say it was horrible enough to destroy people that were far more experienced and stronger than you were when you went through it. Even your mother never was quite the same again after it."

Jim didn't trust his temper enough to dare answer. He looked furiously at the admiral, but eventually looked down and tried very hard to control his anger. And to mention his mother, at a time like this... _Dammit, Jim, snap out of it. It's been over for ten years now. Ten fucking years._ He really wished at the moment he had some of Spock's training to control his emotions. He certainly knew right now why it could be so appealing _not_ to feel.

"Kirk, this mission is vital. But I cannot tell you anything more at the moment, I'm afraid. And believe me, I wish I could tell you something different. I know how hard it will be for you. But Jim… You are our only hope."

Jim remained silent, trying very hard to look professional and emotionless. What could he do against Starfleet command anyway? Admiral Barnett glanced at him, hoping for some sort of acknowledgment, but Jim was not in a state to do so.

"You will be briefed in detail by Admiral Fitzpatrick and me – along with your senior officers – tomorrow morning at 0800."

"With all due respect, sir," Jim intervened, with a forced quietness. "I'll do this mission, whatever _the hell_ it is about. How you decided I would be fit for it is beyond me, though. You _know_ that this whole business with Tarsus IV emotionally compromises me. And that according to Starfleet regulations, I should just relinquish command. I appreciate you coming here to inform me of the nature of the mission in private, for I understand now how my… strong reaction would have looked bad in front of the Admiralty and my officers. I really appreciate it, sir, but it still doesn't change anything to the fact that I am probably the last person that should have been involved in it."

As he turned his head in Jim's direction, the admiral hard stare softened noticeably. Jim's face remained cautiously blank, but the admiral knew that it was only a façade.

"Jim… That's exactly why _you_ have to do it. You will take this more seriously than anybody else. And sincerely, right now, Jim, you are the best we have. You proved it numerous times. I sometimes wonder if you were not promoted too young," he sighed. "And yet, it's not as though you don't _deserve_ your captaincy."

Admiral Barnett put his drink down and put a hand on Jim's shoulder.

"But you certainly also deserved to be _young_ and careless for a few more years."

The admiral then walked back towards the door, leaving Jim looking straight ahead in the middle of his quarters.

"I was never allowed to be young, sir," he stated bitterly. "If I couldn't afford it at 16, I doubt I can claim it now, at 26."

The admiral paused, but didn't look back.

"It might be so, Jim. But only time will tell. As you were, Captain."

"Admiral."

With a last sigh, the admiral left and closed the door behind him.

Jim stayed motionless for a few moments. The silence that had fallen onto his quarters was unnerving.

"Tarsus IV…" he muttered, looking out the window. "This has to be a nightmare. It has to be."

Then he grabbed a hoodie and left quickly. He simply could not stand there, thinking. He went down the stars rapidly and exited the building. As soon as he was out, he started running. He was just back from the gym when Admiral Barnett had intruded, but it didn't matter. He knew he would only find solace in physical exhaustion.

So he ran. And even when he started being too tired to run, he ran on.

* * *

At 1831, Leonard McCoy was in front of Jim's quarters. He knocked and waited, but receiving no answer, he started getting impatient. He tried opening the door, but it was locked. He entered his CMO override, but even that failed.

"What the devil is that snarky little bastard up to?" he grumbled. "Jim? Jim! Captain Kirk! Christ, Jim! You bloody devil! Will you answer you sneaky –"

"Dr. McCoy, I hardly think such language is deemed as appropriate in the Officers' building," interfered Spock, alerted by the rumble McCoy was making.

Leonard looked at Spock dubiously.

"Well, as it's been over ten minutes that I've been waiting for _His Grace_ to come out or just answer me, I thought that the bastard needed a bit of help to remember that he ought not to just take a nap in the middle of the day and forget about his friends!"

"Has the thought not occurred to you that Jim might not be in his quarters at all?"

"Of course it has, you hob… you Vulcan! That's why I was going to try his communicator _now_ ," replied McCoy angrily.

He flipped his communicator open.

"McCoy to Kirk. McCoy to Kirk. Kirk, answer, you devil –"

"Doctor, let me try instead," cut Spock before Bones could continue his injurious litany. He took the communicator from Leonard's hand. "Spock to Captain Kirk. Captain Kirk, acknowledge please."

They waited for an answer, the doctor still protesting under his breath. After a few seconds though, Spock repeated the call, and when nothing happened, he looked cryptically at Bones. He took the PADD he had in his hands and turned it on.

"Computer, find the current whereabouts of James T. Kirk, Captain of the USS Enterprise."

"Calculating."

The computer displayed rapidly a number of maps of the campus in order to be able to triangulate the captain's location.

"Captain James T. Kirk is not on the premises of Starfleet Academy," answered the computer after a few seconds. "Extend the search to surrounding area?"

Spock's eyebrows went up as he looked at McCoy, who was also looking quite taken aback.

"Where _the hell_ is he?"

* * *

*Just a quick information: The "NOW" is the Prologue time, Stardate 2261.1. So all the time references (5 months ago, 6 months ago) are calculated from the Prologue Stardate.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I did not originally planned to end the chapter here, but it kind of made sense to cut it now, otherwise, it would have been an incredibly long chapter.
> 
> But no worries, the next one is coming soon!
> 
> Peace and long life!

**Author's Note:**

> SO. What did you think? :)


End file.
